


Logical Choices

by Merfilly



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s02e10 Mirror Mirror, Friendship/Love, M/M, Pre-Slash, Rape Aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:42:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26919790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: Spock analyzed the situation and came to the correct choice - McCoy needed help to move past the other universe.
Relationships: Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Comments: 10
Kudos: 52
Collections: Bones McCoy H/C, Star Trek Holidays 2020





	Logical Choices

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kingstoken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingstoken/gifts).



> Kingstoken, brilliant prompts, and I can only hope I've built something here that meets your wishes.

Something had happened to place a rift between the good doctor and himself, Spock quickly realized. McCoy was not coming to the bridge as much, avoiding more than the bare bones of witty repartee during briefings, and generally making himself scarce from all typical activities.

Sharing a lift with the doctor was the final analysis point Spock needed to make his conclusions.

The doctor, often prone to fidgeting, remained perfectly still and silent, with more distance between them than the norm.

"Doctor," Spock greeted, after choosing to not ignore this further.

"Spock."

One word, terse in its professional tone was more evidence.

"May I have a private word with you?"

He watched, discreetly, keeping his posture calm and impassive, as the answer filtered from 'hell no' to 'probably should' to 'yes', as he was quite adept at reading this human above nearly any other.

That was the nature of what they had forged in the two years of sharing the uppermost duties of watching over the crew of the _Enterprise_. McCoy watched over their morale and health, while Spock directed their endeavors and efficiencies.

Only, that left no one to see to McCoy's health, and that was an illogical gap that Spock, by necessity, would now fill.

"I suppose so, Mister Spock. I was on my way to my office to go over reports."

"I will endeavor to not take too much of your time," Spock said, as he weighted that quantification against McCoy's well-being, and thus none of the time could be 'too much'.

The walk from the turbo-lift to the office off of sickbay did not take that long, letting Spock leave it in silence rather than accidentally set this conversation on the wrong note. Knowing McCoy did not change that he was human and often overly emotional with no predictable pattern.

"What's on your mind, Spock?" McCoy asked once the office door was closed. He was moving to his chair behind the desk, something Spock saw as both typical, and defensive.

"Our recent encounter with the more barbaric Captain and his officers," Spock began, analyzing the way McCoy tensed from head to toe, before forcing it all down. "I feel as if I would be remiss in learning just what traits I should be aware of that could cause unpleasant reminders for you."

"I did say I liked the beard," McCoy said, deliberately deflecting the thrust of the words aimed at him.

Spock crossed his arms, a tip of his head that was angled precisely to draw out McCoy's argumentative nature.

Much truth could be found in the irrational, yet passionate, words of an argument.

"Alright, no beard. I'd hate for your mother to find it distressing," McCoy said to that, even as he moved to get his reports on the desk, to busy his hands.

"Doctor… I feel your answer leaves room for exposition."

"And I don't think it needs talking about."

Spock met McCoy's eyes, saw the firmed jaw, the absolute lack of a smile, even a false one for nerves, and inclined his head once.

"As you choose, Doctor."

He retreated, strategically, to determine the next steps, convinced now more than ever that his counterpart had, in some fashion, hurt McCoy. Such actions had to be mended, no matter how illogical he knew he was being over a different version of himself committing actions he could not have prevented.

* * *

The next mission saw the doctor needling him, the next briefing was full of sarcasm.

Spock had to weigh that most carefully. Which human behavior was on display here? Was it avoidance through confrontation and bluffing, or had the attempt to talk it out given McCoy the push he needed to deal with latent trauma, and banish it?

It was something to consider, with more data needed, before he acted again.

That it made his own daily interactions something to look forward to again was not a pertinent piece of data to examine, though.

* * *

Some day, in some far future year, Spock might admit that he would never be able to predict humans.

He opened the door to find McCoy standing there. Spock had actually been about to go to the rec room, to partake in social skill practicing, but the single bounce up on toes and back to his heels, plus the dart of McCoy's eyes made him step back and make an inviting motion in.

"I'm sorry for not giving you any warning, but, I decided that maybe I should get this out of my system," McCoy began, standing uneasily in the cabin, just in front of Spock. "It was a mind-meld. Wasn't even that … well.

"It was unwanted, but inevitable with the kind of man he was, and the situation we were in," he finished to Spock's upraised eyebrow.

"Inevitability of an action only prolongs one's awareness of the pain it inflicts, per the human reaction to anticipation," Spock reasoned, then continued before McCoy could fully suck in the breath for rebuttal. "You call it inevitable. I call it a tasteless choice of violence, even with the context of the brutality and fascism of that universe.

"Dependent on the technique used, there could be lingering psychic wounds, above and beyond the violation itself," Spock told him. "And that, doctor, is not something you can heal with a tissue stabilizer."

"No, it's not," McCoy admitted. "But you, so to speak, lanced the wound the day you tried to get me to talk to you."

Spock moved that hypothesis to the 'true' side, but continued to listen, hands folded behind his back for now.

"I won't let my experiences there taint this thing between you and I," McCoy asserted. "I think of us as friends, even if your pointed-eared, hobgoblin self fails to see a use for such things, and I was shying away from you like a half-broken colt."

"Colorful euphemism aside," Spock began, "I do not fail to 'see a use' for friendship.

"It is not something that needs to be 'useful' to exist. And I have, through our service together, come to realize that even my father's people prefer to be quiet together. I am your friend, and I will do what I can to aid your recovery."

Spock could see that his words had landed with an impact far beyond their meaning, for the ocular clarity of McCoy's eyes was returning to the crisper, more vibrant shade they took on when pleased, or when working hard.

"Thanks, Spock," McCoy said. "Now… were you going to the rec room? Seems you still owe me a game for that one that got interrupted by the Orions."

"That is most illogical, as we have played many games since then," Spock said, falling in step with the good doctor to go and socialize.

The healing would come, in time. For now, this was more what they needed as a seal on the contract to do so.

* * *

A week of meditation, of speaking of the violation, and then McCoy upended all of Spock's careful distancing of the issues.

"I could see a part of his mind too. There was a connection already, I think, between him and the other me," McCoy said.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Logical, though likely unethical," he commented aloud, but he made the mistake of looking at McCoy directly from their meditation mats set opposite one another.

What he saw there was quickly categorized as both worry and hope, based on his many observations of McCoy in various circumstances.

Worry? Hope?

He had to quickly calculate the values of those against all of the rest of his analysis, and what came up next as the logical output value was enough to make him straighten and take a slow breath.

McCoy was moving toward guarded, and that would not do at all. Spock reached out, on impulse, fingers just barely landing on the tips of the doctor's fingers.

The building of walls between them stopped in that moment, for McCoy knew the context of touch, especially of hands. And Spock found that this was the most precise moment for addressing the parts of his mind he had denied so far.

Not mind, he amended, but heart. He had to be honest in this, even if it meant opening himself to criticism from the Vulcan rigidity in his education.

"It is logical that those two versions of ourselves would have a prior connection," Spock said, "given that our friendship has evolved to a level that has made me hesitant to call attention to it.

"Given my emotional reactions to dangers you have faced in the past."

McCoy slowly started to smile, transforming his features into a work of light from Spock's aesthetic appreciation.

"You care about me."

"Yes."

"And aren't put out that I care about you?"

"Yes."

McCoy turned his hand over, boldly, so that the pads of his fingers were against Spock's.

"I guess we both have a lot to learn then, about how this works from here."

Spock nodded, but didn't stop touching McCoy's fingers… Leonard's hand, even.

"We will, as ever, face it with our own particular ways of thinking and debate."

Leonard just chuckled, before caressing the long fingers touching him… and Spock chose to let words stop for now.

This was new, and something to be savored as memories were forged in the experience.


End file.
